What in the World Is Wrong with You?

I looked for Rory as we sang the Takawanda welcome song. But without standing, I saw only the families around us. I searched some more when Nancy instructed us to rise for the alma mater. Charlie stood with me. Was Rory planning to get him again? I had figured she was going to drift by during lunch, but desserts were already out–cake and cookies and watermelon–and still no Rory. And no dog.

“Ready for a little tennis?” my father asked. “My racquet’s in the car. I’ll go get it.”

“Lou.” My mother nodded toward Charlie.

“He’s fine with the girls.”

“Sure he is,” Erin agreed. “Aren’t you, Charlie? We’re gonna watch Amy play tennis.”

“Amy. Tennis.” Charlie’s voice came as a whisper. I didn’t think anyone else heard him. But Erin had. “Right,” she answered. “Watch Amy play tennis.” She pulled Charlie to his feet. “Watch with us,” Erin urged her parents.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mrs. Hollander said.

Jody zeroed in on my father and me. She stopped to grab tennis balls from the shopping cart, then ushered us onto the middle court. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Becker,” she said. “Your daughter’s a fine player, one of the strongest in camp. And one of the nicest girls too.” Jody tossed me the balls. “Now show your father how your time here’s paying off.”

“Go for it,” Erin called. I turned at her voice. She stood in back of Charlie, his nose against the chain link fence behind the courts. Erin’s parents stood to her side. No sign of anyone with a dog. No sign of my mother. I bounced a ball–once, twice. Why wouldn’t she watch me play?

“Let’s see how good you’ve gotten,” Dad teased.

I began hitting slowly, grooving my strokes as he had taught me. Where was Rory?

I heard Erin’s mother say I was good. “Wait,” Erin told her. “She’s just warming up. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

As if on cue, my father picked up the pace. He slammed a forehand to the baseline. I hit a strong cross‑court. “Good shot, honey,” he called. “Let’s see your backhand.”

Erin gave me a thumbs‑up when I turned to get a ball. I tickled Charlie’s nose, still pressed to the fence. “Love you, buddy,” I said, then readied myself to hit by bouncing the ball.

“Stalling for time?” My father chuckled.

“Oh, so you’re eager for everyone to see that I’m better than you, Dad?”

Erin laughed at our banter. “Go on, Ame. Show him how good you are.”

The racquet became part of me. I fed off my father’s pace, returning each shot with a bullet of my own. Applause–louder than Erin’s family alone could have given. Campers and parents on the other courts stopped hitting. The strike of the ball. The movement of my feet. That’s all there was. On your toes, Amy. On your toes. Jody’s words in my mind kept me light, made me fly. “One of the strongest players in camp,” she had said. “A good bet to win the senior tournament.”

I slammed a backhand down the line. “Great shot!” My father clapped the strings of his racquet.

“Way to go!” Erin’s voice pulled me back into myself. I glanced behind to catch a smile stretch across her face, Charlie still in front of her, her parents to her left. My mother stood next to them now. She left just enough space between her and the Hollanders so no one would think they were together. And on my mother’s other side, Rory and Robin gabbed as if they belonged there. Not an inch between them and my mother.

I took in the crowd fanning out across the fence. No dogs. No barking. Charlie’s fine, I assured myself. Erin will protect him.

“Stalling for time again?” my father kidded.

Rory won’t hurt Charlie now, I decided, shaking off my fear of another attack. He looked so peaceful up against the fence, Erin’s hands gentle on his shoulders. Show Mom how good you’ve gotten, I told myself. Show her you’re special. Hit the ball, Amy. Smack it hard.

I whammed a forehand down the center, a backhand to the corner. Yet despite my shots, the audience thinned. Campers pulled their parents away until not one spectator remained to Erin and Charlie’s right.

I waited a moment to see if my mother would stay. Though she didn’t move from her position near the Hollanders, I knew she had no interest in watching me. My mother wouldn’t care that I was one of the best players in camp. What good was tennis if I wasn’t friendly enough or pretty enough or popular enough? Yet I wanted her to hear the “Great shot!” and “What a player!” I wanted her to know that some people thought I was good enough at something.

“What’s the matter? Tired already?” My father seemed to enjoy the spotlight we shared. He was proud of my playing. He had taught me well. Not bad for a father who never had time for his own game. Not bad for a man upstaged his whole life by his kid brother, Eddie Becker, the boy the girls came to watch, as my father had said. Uncle Ed, whose own daughter, with private tennis lessons and indoor winter practice, had to fight to keep up with me on the court.

I started a rally, but my focus scattered. The Hollanders still applauded, and my mother stood, straight as a pine tree, in her spot. But Rory and Robin were gone.

I should have left the court when I saw they weren’t there. Yet Charlie seemed fine. And I wanted my mother to see that tennis wasn’t a waste–not for me, anyhow. Focus. Concentrate. Make Mom see you’re special.

I tried again to shrink my universe to the ball spinning toward me. Racquet back. Step. Swing. A shot to my father’s backhand. I tracked the ball, heard the thump of his contact. Then Charlie screamed.

I spun around as a tan dog zoomed in from the right, claiming Charlie before Erin saw it coming. The cocker spaniel jumped and barked. It licked Charlie’s leg. I dropped my racquet and ran from the court. “Get him off!” I yelled to Erin. She grabbed the dog’s collar while my mother squeezed in front of Mr. and Mrs. Hollander. By the time I circled behind the fence, my mother held Charlie from the back, her arms binding his chest as if trying to hold his wails in. Long, howling cries–a huge sound from such a little boy. Louder than the barking, which hadn’t stopped, though Erin held the dog at a distance now.

I didn’t pay attention to the gathering of campers and parents as I lifted my brother. “It’s all right, buddy. I’ve got you.” My words did nothing to thaw his frozen body, nothing to stop his shrieks. “See, buddy, no more dog. You’re okay now.”

My father, who had raced on my heels, tried to help. “Calm down now, son. See?” He pointed to Erin. “The dog’s way over there. Erin’s holding him so he can’t get near you.”

“Sorry. I’m really, really sorry,” Erin called. “I got him off as fast as I could.”

“It’s not your fault,” I told her, knowing who was responsible. Surely Rory had masterminded the attack.

Something else I knew too: Charlie’s screams could go on for an hour. And with each new yell, with every “No!”–as if my brother still felt the dog on his leg–my anger doubled. Let Rory threaten me all she pleased, whip me all she wanted. But Charlie? She couldn’t hurt him and get away with it. I wouldn’t allow that.

“Does anyone know whose dog that is?” Uncle Ed marched across the field, Nancy beside him. “Who owns that dog?” He veered toward the rec hall, leaving Nancy to disperse campers and parents, still huddled around us. “Mr. and Mrs. Becker,” she said, “I’m so sorry about this.” I tried not to meet Nancy’s eyes, couldn’t risk crying. “I’m going to find out who that dog belongs to,” she went on, patting Charlie’s shoulder. I knew he didn’t feel her touch.

“Why don’t you find Rory and ask her whose dog it is?” Though I wasn’t angry with Nancy, I finally unmuzzled my rage.

“Amy!” my mother said.

“What? Rory did this, and she’s gonna pay.”

Charlie started to shake.

“Now look what you’ve done.” My mother reminded me this was my fault as much as Rory’s. If I hadn’t been showing off on the tennis court, maybe Rory wouldn’t have struck.

“Sonia, please, Sonia.” Then, as if Dad read my mind, he said, “None of this is Amy’s fault.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe Rory would have found a way to get Charlie no matter where I had been and what I had done. I turned to Nancy. “Rory and Robin can tell you whose dog they borrowed for this stunt, and where–”

“Amy!” My mother cut me off. “What in the world is wrong with you? What could Rory and your cousin have to do with that dog?”

I couldn’t stop myself. “What’s wrong with you, Mom? You think that dog just came out of nowhere?”

“Don’t use that tone on your mother, young lady.” My father made it clear I had gone too far.

“Amy, this isn’t getting us anywhere.” Nancy sounded annoyed, like when I hadn’t told her about Rory emptying my trunk. But now things were different. This time I wanted to tell–no, needed to tell–and no one would listen. “I think we’re upsetting your brother even more,” Nancy said. “So I’m going to go take care of this. I’ll be back.”

“Find Rory,” I called after her, issuing the order as if I were the one with a clipboard. “Ask her whose dog she borrowed.”

Charlie trembled in my arms as I spoke, though his crying weakened. “Get down now, son,” my father told him.

“No.”

“Come on, Charlie.” My father tried to coax him from me. “That dog can’t get you anymore.”

“No. No!” Charlie’s arms tightened around me as Uncle Ed approached. No wink, just a subtle shake of his head. And not a word to my mother as my uncle pulled my father behind the far court. I didn’t care anymore what he might say about me. All I wanted was for my mother to know the truth. All I wanted was for Rory to be punished.

I thought I heard laughter. I looked in the direction of the dog, Erin and her parents restraining it, the spaniel nothing but a playful pup. And skipping toward it, Rory, Robin, and Susie Barr, one of Robin’s bunkmates. “Well, there you are, Tiger,” Susie sang out. “We thought we’d lost you.”

“Oh, hi, Mrs. Becker,” Rory shouted as if surprised to see us. “Hope Susie’s dog wasn’t a problem. Her parents are visiting in her sister’s bunk, so we took Tiger for a walk. He loves little kids. And somehow he just got loose. We’ve been looking all over for him.” Rory broke away from her friends and stepped closer to us.

I worked Charlie’s arms from my neck and lowered him to his feet. He didn’t resist, didn’t cry out or shake. He just stood like a twig.

“You’re a stupid liar, Rory!” I screamed, hoping everyone would hear me. “Stay away from my family! Stay away from me!” I needed to hit something, but there was nothing to punch. I picked up a pinecone and threw it at Rory’s chest.

“Amy!” my mother shouted as Rory laughed.

I pounded my thighs while Rory sauntered behind us toward Jessica and her parents, at the side of the tennis courts. “ She did this to Charlie,” I said. “She told me she would get him. That’s why I sent that letter.” My words flowed, unstoppable now. “That’s why I didn’t want Charlie to visit.”

I couldn’t guess what made him run then. Was it my anger? What I said? I didn’t know exactly what Charlie understood that day. He raced off as if he suddenly realized I couldn’t protect him anymore, breaking the thread that had tied us together. He zoomed away before my mother or I could grab him. He ran smack into Uncle Ed.

I wasn’t the only one who watched my uncle lift Charlie and hold him out as if he were a stranger’s baby with a dirty diaper. Rory stopped before she reached Jessica’s family. She studied Charlie as his fists punched the air and his legs kicked hard. With Charlie’s back to me, I didn’t see my brother’s face, but I knew what Rory saw. I had seen it in a photo my father had shown me, a picture he kept in his night table drawer: an old photo of himself and his little brother Eddie. When my father showed it to me, I felt him slide into the past–to that stoop in Brooklyn, where he’d sat with a hand on his kid brother’s shoulder. “Lucky Charlie,” my father had said to me as he shook off the memory. “He’s got those handsome Becker genes like your Uncle Ed.”

“Put him down,” my mother called now to my uncle. I stepped in Charlie’s direction, but my mother forced me back. “Your father will handle this.”

Dad took Charlie and hugged him close, Charlie limp in his arms. Only then did my mother and I move toward them. I placed my hand on my brother’s back and tried to rub trust into him again. “I’m so sorry, buddy,” I whispered.

Uncle Ed didn’t hug my mother when he told her it was time for my parents to take Charlie home. I watched my uncle approach the Hollanders. They hustled Erin away on what must have been Uncle Ed’s command. No sign of the dog or Robin. No sighting of Rory.

“Please get my racquet, Ame.” My father sounded as if he could sleep for a week. “And then walk us to the car.”

“Ed has no right to make us go early,” my mother said. “What will everyone think if we don’t stay for the afternoon?” It didn’t surprise me that she seemed more concerned about what others would think than she was about Charlie or me. Couldn’t she see he was wiped out by fear? And didn’t she care about leaving me without visitors for the afternoon?

“This is Ed’s camp,” my father reminded her. “And it doesn’t matter what everyone thinks.”

Charlie’s vacant gaze told me his visit had already ended. I let myself cry when I picked up my father’s tennis racquet. I hadn’t pushed the witch into the oven. I hadn’t saved my brother.

We walked slowly to the car, Charlie between my father and me. Charlie’s hand felt like rubber in mine. His head bowed in defeat. My mother stepped behind us. She carried the canvas bag she’d been toting around, packed with bathing suits and towels.

“Let me go home with you. Please, Dad.” The words tumbled out. “I hate camp. I don’t want to stay here.”

“I know you’ve had a hard time, honey. Uncle Ed told me you’ve had problems adjusting. But I don’t understand why you said you were having fun.”

How could I tell him that I had needed my mother to think I was popular, and that I hadn’t wanted to upset him with the truth? “I don’t know,” I answered, sniffling back tears. “But I’m telling the truth now, Dad. I hate this place! I hate Rory! I just want to go home.”

“Did you ask to go home?” My mother hadn’t missed a word.

“Please, Sonia. Let me take care of this. You don’t know what Ed told me.”

“I don’t care what Ed told you. Amy has to learn to make friends. She can’t just come home.” My mother moved next to Dad and talked to him as if I had already gone back to the cabin. “She has to learn to be friends with the right people, people who can help her get ahead in this world.”

“Please, Dad,” I tried again in my smallest voice. “Please take me home.”

My mother wouldn’t quit. “I told you before, Amy, you have to get along with all kinds of people to survive. And Rory doesn’t seem nearly as bad as you make her out to be.”

“Just try to enjoy the second half of the summer,” my father said, telling me my mother had already given her ruling. “I understand why you want to come home, Ame, but your mother knows what she’s talking about. You have to learn to deal with the Rorys in this world. If your mother hadn’t known that, she might not be here today.

“And anyhow, honey, you’re playing great tennis. You really could win the tournament. And wouldn’t that be something?

“So please tell Erin’s family we’re sorry we didn’t get to say good‑bye. They’re nice people, the Hollanders. But your mother’s right: You need to make other friends too. And truthful letters from now on. Okay?”

If I tried to answer, I wouldn’t have been able to stop my tears. So I simply hugged my father when we got to the car. “I love you, Ame,” he said. “I wish we could stay.” He reached for Charlie.

“Wait,” I cried, bundling my brother in my arms. But Charlie didn’t blend into me, not even when I said, “I love you, buddy. I’m so sorry.”

“Make an effort, Amy,” my mother ordered. “Maybe Robin can help you get to know her friends better. Share the fruit with them.”

“Nobody wants fruit.” The truth kept pouring out as my father got Charlie settled in the car. “And Robin won’t help me. Who do you think told Rory about Charlie and dogs?”

“What happened could have been an accident, like Rory said. You don’t know anything for sure, Amy.”

“I know more than you think, Mom.”

“What are you talking about?”

I lowered my voice. “I know about you and Uncle Ed.”

My mother got into the car without even waiting for my father to open the door for her. And when my father hugged me good‑bye, I knew he hadn’t heard a word.

^{Chapter 16}

Дата добавления: 2015-10-16